


The Other Side

by Makkoska



Category: Naruto
Genre: Afterlife, M/M, What if fic, challage fic, getting it right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-28
Updated: 2014-08-28
Packaged: 2018-02-15 03:16:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2213757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Makkoska/pseuds/Makkoska
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When it’s all over, Madara has the chance to try to make better choices – trying again and again until he gets them right. What he missed in life, he can now make up for in death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Other Side

**Author's Note:**

> This is my late entry for the HashiMada minibang running on Tumblr, for prompt Death & Rebirth

 

 

He has no body, no mind. No name, no past, no feelings. He’s just a presence in the bright, white light. As time has no meaning, nothing changes for endlessly long.

 

As there’s no time, he can’t tell when the light starts to hurt. As he has no body, he can’t close his eyes against the blinding rays. They are shining through him, burning him. Cleansing him. He is helpless to do anything more than to lie on his back and stare into them.

 

As soon as he thinks that, it becomes real - he has a body, so he can lie there in the nothingness. He closes his lids with a sigh, but that doesn’t block the brightness out. The only thing that changes is how thoughts start to run through slowly, sluggishly, in his newly existing mind, forming him similar to how he once was.

 

Memories. Memories are haunting him, hurting him more than the light ever could. The presence who once was a man named Uchiha Madara sobs his regrets.

 

Death - he is dead, a spirit, a ghost, or nothing at all, just the twisted remains of all that he used to be.

 

The most terrible thing is that he remembers everything. Nothing is clouded by time, nothing is obscured by the imperfections of a human mind. He remembers every thought that was ever born in his head, every feeling that grew in his heart. Remembers all his decisions, every step he made, every beat of his heart. All that he hated, all that he loved. Everything he ever had and each single thing he lost.

 

Now in death, he relives them. He’s a baby, crying. His mother’s face - he raises his little hands to touch her smile he so loves, even if at the same time he’s an adult too, who can no longer remember her clearly. He’s four, watching over a sleeping Izuna. He’s twenty-one, holding a dying Izuna in his arms. He meets Hashirama on the riverbank and is killed by him. He feels the careless joy of skipping stones and the cold pain of the sword tearing his chest open.

 

He dies and comes back to life. He's a kid, and a withered old man. He is born, he loves, he hates. He feels happiness, hurt, fury. He’d go mad with seeing, feeling, living all that simultaneously, but madness doesn’t have a meaning here. This is the place for the truth - however painful it is. When he screams in agony, it resonates within him, rhythmically to the pulsing of light that keeps tormenting him. Nobody else hears it - he’s alone in this existence.

 

There’s no escaping, so he reconciles to watching and feeling. No, there’s more to it - everything is happening with him again. If time would make any sense, he’d say that it takes him awfully long before he tries to change these scenes from his life. He’s surprised when he finds he can.

 

Small things at first - he says something else than he did, a nod here, a frown there. People reply differently, act differently - Madara watches amazedly as whole scenarios turn out another way than they had in his life.

 

He forgets about the tormenting light, he forgets about screams only he can hear. He doesn’t care any longer that this body he’s imagining having is not real, that he is dead. Excitement washes over him as he understands what this place is for. This is his chance to make the right decisions, to change his fate for the better.

 

Now, where should he start…?

 

*/*/*

 

“We’ll finally… become one!”

 

The world is trapped inside a dream. There’s no expression for the thrill of joy he feels. He succeeded. He planned, prepared, suffered for so long and now - now he achieved what he strived for, it was not in vain.

 

He watches as they slumber. With his third eye open he sees more than simple physical bodies. He _sees_ their dreams. Sees that they are now happy. He freed the world of the vain struggle for a future that will never be better. Freed everyone from pain, suffering, emptiness. It’s now only this group of fools standing in the way of eternal happiness. He won’t let them interfere. He’s the saviour of this miserable world - there’s no sense in letting everyone suffer as he did, when he has a solution.

 

He quenches his sorrow for all who already died. They are unaffected by this, after all. Whatever awaited them on the other side, it can’t be worse than this hell on earth. He’ll squelch this Naruto and his selfish friends and then… all will be at peace.

 

And when that’s done, he can fall asleep as well.

 

He sidesteps when Zetsu appears behind his back.

 

“You traitor. You’d turn against your creator? You’re my will!”

 

“That’s not true Madara. My will is Kaguya.”

 

He comes against him and the Uchiha fights him. His body moves as if on its own - his mind is a jumble of thoughts and emotions because if he thinks about it… Thinks about the implication of what Zetsu said, this deep, inexplicable suspicion what he still knows to be true…

 

...Isn’t this meaningless? Does it matter if he lives or dies? Does it matter if it’s really his will being carried out or if it was that ancient creature who led him this way? He achieved what he wanted…

 

 

He achieved what _Kaguya_ wanted.

 

He was used. He was no naive - why hasn’t he ever realized that he was just a puppet? Is he doing anything more than killing off people? Eliminating all life, turning them into mindless minions for this long-ago dead woman. False dreams of happy lives - they doesn’t worth a thing. They won’t last at all.

 

Where did his plan go wrong? He chiselled it for so long.

 

How Zetsu manages to get behind his back, he doesn’t know. His hand slides through his chest just as easily as Hashirama sliced it open with his blade. It’s at the exact same spot. Right at his heart where betrayal hurts the most. The physical pain in nothing compared to the pain of realizing - he did everything in vain…

 

*/*/*

 

He stares into the light, welcoming its burn, hoping it can cleanse him. No - at that point it was already too late to change his fate - the fate of the whole world - for the better. He needs to start sooner, not when the plan was already impossible to alter.

 

When it was time for his second death maybe…

 

*/*/*

 

“...This reality is - Hell.”

 

He speaks the truth. This is hell, so he doesn’t feel a morsel of regret for manipulating the boy into carrying out his will. Making him watch the girl die - that’s just hurrying the inevitable. She’d die sooner or later on her own as well, and probably in a just as violent manner. She’s a shinobi after all. They are all born to die and those very few surviving are bound to watch the others go and suffer their loss. He knows all about it. Old and withered as he is, he remembers all of his own losses. Keeps them close to his heart. Ironically enough, they give him strength to carry on.

 

_Do you think your pain can compare to mine? That the death of this silly little girl weighs the same as the deaths and betrayals I experienced?_

 

Why would he feel sorrow? He’s doing him a favour. He’ll gain his power, the name of the legendary Uchiha Madara, even if only temporarily. And when the end comes… he’ll dream his heart’s dream with everyone else.

 

The stage is set. The pieces are at their places. His masterpiece.

 

It’s not flawless, but nothing of this world is.

 

“Use it when the time comes, when you cast the Six Paths Technique,” he glances up at the motionless face of Hashirama’s clone. _He’ll betray me just as you did, but this time I’m prepared for it._ “This rod is the physical manifestation of my will. Be sure to use it at the right time.”

 

He doesn’t go further and infuse any of his creations with his will to watch over Obito. He can’t trust such a weak imitation of himself to supervise what’s about to happen. As much as he longs to rest, to be rid of his ruined, old body, he clings to his life. Just a bit longer - until he can be sure that everything turns out as he planned. The white Zetsus are more than capable of reporting him what’s happening outside.

 

He finds that clinging to his existence is becoming harder and harder with each day. He sits in his cave, sees only the Gedo Mazo, that senseless, motionless imitation of Hashirama, the Zetsus who are also just weak shadows of his once-friend, nothing but non-too successful recreations of the Senju. His only worthy enemy. He touches his chest where that wound lays. He still hears those cruel parting words in his ear, spat so emotionlessly when he stroked Madara dead. It’s very annoying that he keeps thinking about him even now.

 

He listens to his minions with less and less interest. He longs to break the connection that ties him to the statute and feeds him this twisted life. He wants to escape this existence, wants to return in his prime where he has the strength to change fate.

 

He longs to die as he should have long ago.

 

He can’t even recall when he does it - tearing himself off from the Gedo Mazo that gives him this false vital force, but when he opens his eyes, he’s standing high on a plane, an army of shinobi below him. He glances at his gloved hands. _Edo Tensei._ This was not what he planned…

 

*/*/*

 

He closes his eyes against the light, though he knows it to be vain. He still feels the pulsing pain of his old, pointless life. He didn’t start at a right place again, didn’t manage to change anything of importance. Maybe Obito was a bad choice, maybe he should have endured a bit longer, until he managed to find someone more suitable, but back then he so longed to be able to start over...

 

But no.

 

Maybe the whole plan was flawed, and not only because Kaguya was influencing him. Maybe simply he should try at an earlier point still. If Hashirama didn’t wound him so - didn’t kill him, didn’t damage him… if he gets the time and place right, he won’t need Obito at all…

 

He’ll try again.

 

*/*/*

 

“... I don’t want to kill you…”

 

“Are you confident that you can kill me so easily?”

 

“No! I thought we were friends…”

 

Friends. How naive and at the same time how insulting. Were they ever friends? A long time ago maybe. Those days by the river have become nothing but washed-out memories. They didn’t even know about the other’s real identity. How could that count as friendship? They are nothing more, nothing less than fated enemies. Fight is what they were born for. And he will conquer victory.

 

Everything else, like those deceitful days after making that hypocritical peace was a mistake. He should have never believed Hashirama.  He killed any tenderness he might have felt for the other man when he left the village.

 

Love has no place in a world like this.

 

It was foolish of him to ever think otherwise.

 

But now he made up his mind. To achieve his real dream, he has to kill Hashirama. He let his traitorous emotions delay him for long enough.

 

“This time you won’t get to the other side.”

 

Madara waited for this for too long. He searched, he suffered, he murdered. He is ready. He will win this fight. Stupid, naive, childish dreams of shinobi villages, peace, friendship - all proved to be false. They won’t hold his hand back.

 

Hashirama is a strong bastard. Even though they are out of chakra after the taxing battle, he fights with all his might still.

 

Or at least Madara is out of chakra. Hashirama obviously has just some…but he has always been just stronger than him, with that inexplicable but undeniable bit, ever since their childhood. He used to act upon it so straightforwardly, no tricks, just attacking face to face - nobody could stand against him after all. Not even Madara. And as much as he changed since their last clash, with all the plans he made, with controlling the nine-tails - Hashirama is still stronger.

 

It’s lucky that Madara is more clever and untrusting. This way he senses the real man behind his back, just as the false Hashirama kneeling in the water dissolves into splitters.

 

He moves, so the Senju’s sword only slices into his arm. Without thinking he stabs backwards, feels his blade bore deep into the warm flesh of Hashirama’s abdomen through his tattered armour. The taller man staggers forwards, would crumble if Madara stepped away and not support his weight against his back. But he’s not able to do that anymore than to turn around and look. He doesn’t need to anyway, to know he dealt a fatal wound.

 

“I’m at top,” he whispers.

 

“So you are,” Hashirama coughs. “Madara…” he steps back, and the Uchiha finally turns to watch him sinking down to his knees. One of his hands is pressed to the wound. Blood is pouring out between his fingers. “Please… the village. Don’t - don’t go against it. Don’t destroy our dream.”

 

“It was never about Konoha, Hashirama,” he also kneels down, facing him. He wants to reach out and touch his face, but his arms don’t obey him. _It was about you, not those fools._

 

“I really wanted you to lead them,” he is heaving, pale and shaking. Bleeding to death. “I wanted to...you...I failed...forgive me,” he’s hardly making sense anymore and only now can Madara make himself embrace him and pull him close. Now that it no longer makes a difference.

 

A few more gasps for breath, then he is still.

 

 _There, it’s done,_ Madara thinks. All is left to cut a piece out of the dead man and disappear. Everything is according to plan.

 

“It was never about the village,” he repeats, though there’s nobody here to hear him anymore. “And I no longer care about that stupid dream of ours… no. Yours.”

 

It’s done. He’ll move forward, towards his real dream. If only he could move. He’s victorious, so why does everything seem so meaningless?

 

He pulls his blade free from Hashirama’s corpse, stares at the steel tainted by blood. Could it be that he was wrong? Maybe neither of them was destined to reach the other side...

 

*/*/*

 

He finds he can cry, so he does. Heavy drops of imaginary tears roll down on his non-existent cheeks.

 

Why is this pain?

 

He can feel Hashirama’s sword tearing his chest open. If he raises his hands, he can see the Senju’s blood on them. Why are the two realities equally painful?

 

It’s not as if Hashirama cared about killing him. For all his talk about dreams and friendship, he was able to finish Madara off in cold blood.

 

Was all that a lie? Was he a fool for ever believing him?

 

Maybe he should try there, before it all went to hell. See where his promises would lead if he decided to give him a chance.

 

*/*/*

 

“Land of Fire wants us to decide on a leader. I want you to become that leader. To become Hokage.”

 

Standing on the plain above the village, looking down to the dramatically changed scene, Madara doesn’t know what to think about this at all. He never considered he might lead this village, he, who couldn’t even protect his clan members and his brothers and he says so.

 

But Hashirama sweeps his objections away, excited and enthusiastic, and it’s too much like old times for Madara to resist. There’s a strange, warm, but not unpleasant feeling in the pit of his stomach for the trust the Senju shows in him. Before he could bring up logical objections; that Hashirama is more suitable, or the two of them should take the lead together, they are already talking about the Shimura and Sarutobi joining them.

 

Joking and mock-arguing just as when they were kids. Madara knows it to be false, that things can never go back to how they were, but he can’t resist the temptation of it. When was the last time he felt carefree? It’s certainly nothing but a faded out memory by now.

 

Before he could think better of it, they already named the village and Hashirama is talking about craving his face out from the very rocks they are standing on, which is such an absurd thing he can’t even voice his objection against it, and Madara remembers when they were racing up on it, cheating little bastard starting before him. They were looking down on the view, just as they are doing now, talking about founding the village.

 

_That dream now become reality._

 

Reality… well, all it takes is Senju Tobirama to appear to drag him back to reality. The careless joy slips away, as if it never existed. This man killed Izuna, and now he’s laughing with his brother, spinning dreams as if they were still children.

 

Just moments ago he fully believed that he’ll be the Hokage and work for the good of the people. That he can be accepted and content here. That with Hashirama’s support, all that is possible. That everything’s going to be all right.

 

Now, following the two Senju down the slope, he doesn’t understand how could he think that. He knows how things are.

 

Listening to Tobirama berating his brother and spilling filth on the Uchiha doesn’t tell him much new. Hashirama doesn’t really object. Standing outside on the roof, listening to them in secret like a common chief, Madara pulls that leaf from his pocket and raises it before his eyes for a second and last time.

 

_The Village Hidden in the Leaves. It can never be my home. I lost that chance when I stopped believing in this dream._

 

He puts the leaf down gently. He trusts Hashirama to find it and understand what it means. _Carry on without me._

 

It goes just as he and Tobirama are expecting it. Hashirama recommends him as the leader, because he promised he will. Nobody agrees with him, and he bows his head to the decision of the majority.  

 

_Senju Hashirama, the First Hokage!_

 

Madara leaves then, he can’t stand the noise of the cheering and congratulations. He goes to his friend’s house and waits for him. He knows it to be vain, but still… he wants him to make it right.

 

_The two opposing forces created all things in the universe. We are that Hashirama. We tried to cooperate, but our true nature is to fight the other._

 

Hashirama blinks at him surprised when he comes in and finds him leaning against the windowsill.

 

“Madara?” he asks tentatively, as if it wasn’t obvious it’s him. As he comes closer, the Uchiha can see he’s a bit flushed, and there’s a distinct odour of sake about him. He’s tipsy. Oh, great. “I’ve been looking for you, but you disappeared after the voting.”

 

“Congratulations,” he feels his lip pulling upwards into a bitter smile.  Hashirama casts his glance away, but then obviously steels himself and looks back to search his eyes.

 

“Just… work with me, and people will eventually understand you too. Then - you’ll be the second Hokage.”

 

 _Do you really believe that?_ Madara doesn’t ask. _You have to see as well that your damned brother will follow you._

 

“Is that so? How do you see this will happen, Hashirama?” he can’t keep the mocking out his voice. “When do you see this _understanding_ to come?”

 

“I… this is not how I wanted it to be.”

 

“Yes. You’ve made it quite clear, but still - you’re wearing that hat, not me. So tell me, Hashirama. How will it go on from here?” _Lie to me. We both know it’s not going to work, but… make me believe it can be done, even if just for a moment. Make me believe you, just as you did before._ “But be honest, at least for once. No naive dreams, no impossible cooperation, no unfillable plans. Look at the truth and tell me what you see,” he urges, even if the last thing he wants to hear is the truth.

 

“Just leave it with me. I’ll make everyone see…”

 

“Hashirama, do you think I know nothing?”

 

“Just leave Tobirama and the others to me. _I_ can’t do this without you,” he steps closer and in the dimly lit room he seems sad but determined. “Madara…” he raises his hand and touches his face gently. It’s such an absurd thing to do, that the Uchiha forgets to pull back, just stares at him and wonders how drunk exactly he is. His gaze is steady though - he sees the determination born in them and even though he doesn’t understand what it is about, it still sends a thrill down his spine. “Madara,” Hashirama repeats his name in a husky whisper, “I need you.”

 

Then he kisses him.

 

He is not prepared for it, and in his first shock he can’t do more than to raise his hands and put them on the taller man’s shoulders. Somehow he ends up pulling him closer rather than pushing him away. When he opens his mouth in an involuntary sigh, Hashirama pushes his tongue inside. He tastes slightly of sake, which Madara never cared for, but he doesn’t mind it now. His body is warm and arousing against his.

 

He wished for a lie and he got it. He wonders if Hashirama realizes at all what he is doing as his fingers dig through Madara’s stubborn locks, as he caresses his nape, his neck. Does he know he’s giving him a false reason to stay? An illusion that he can continue his life here.

 

When Hashirama feels his awakening hardness against his thigh, he groans into his mouth, his hands already fumbling to get Madara out from his clothes.

 

It is as if all of this is happening to someone else, as if Madara is just a bystander, watching his body react to his friend’s touches. The excitement, the lust, all those conflicting emotions he kept repressed for so long. He’s the one feeling them, yet still, his mind is clear and cynical, analysing the situation rather than living it.

 

He sees with terrible clarity where this will led. He _knows_ that it will be very easy to become Hashirama’s lover - the possibility was always there, even if they never talked about it. They are drawn to each other in all aspect - why sex would be an exception? For a short while it might even make him forget all his bitterness, all his disappointment in this imperfect world.

 

In the long term? It will change nothing.

 

Hashirama will be the light of Konoha, and he the shadow of it. Their connection will only make people be more suspicious of him. The Senju will try to get him accepted, but won’t succeed. He will hear what they say, that Madara is only manipulating him, that he tries to achieve in this despicable way what he failed to get on his own accord. He’ll try to ignore them, to contradict them, but doubt will be born in his heart. When Madara will have enough and leave Konoha to pursue his real dream… He’ll try to hold him back half-heartedly maybe, but there’ll be no passionate speech, no begging, no talk about how he can’t continue without him. He’ll actually feel relief to be rid of him.

 

“Madara? What’s wrong?” Hashirama asks against his damp, naked skin.

 

“This is so meaningless,” he replies and makes the scene disappear.

 

*/*/*

 

He stares into the light and wishes it would ignite him, make him dissolve into ashes. Is he wrong? Maybe this place is not for changing what happened after all. Maybe he’s here in this solitary, bright hell simply to suffer.

 

Maybe there was never a chance for him. Maybe his fate was set from the moment of his birth, maybe he was condemned to fail from the start. His fate decided by his origin, his ancestors. His misplaced friendship with Hashirama might have been able to change all that, make him act against Kaguya’s ancestral will. But with his road through life paved by losing all who he cared for, leaving him purposeless, how could that one single thing be enough?

 

And would it have mattered for Hashirama enough? Madara was just never the most important, never been cared about to a degree where it could have made a difference.

 

Is it pure spite making him try to change what happened this time? Maybe. It’s not as if he could do anything else but to try and try again.  Why should it be always him suffering all the losses?

 

*/*/*

 

Madara finds that the world though Izuna’s eyes is even darker than he remembered it to be. The loss of his last brother left an aching emptiness in him. Blood must be paid by blood, and if he can’t take his murderers’, he’ll spill his own. It’s not a great price to pay, so he attacks Hashirama and his cursed clan without hesitation, never mind that he has no followers amongst his own kin.

 

It takes a full day for his old friend to conquer over him and Madara wonders if he really shows his true might at all. But finally he crumbles to the ground and finds that he doesn’t even mind being defeated. He welcomes death - at least he’ll be rid of this world.

 

Still, Hashirama hesitates to finish it. He holds his brother back - Madara sees the incomprehension, the shock on the pale face when the older Senju growls his warning. He is glad for it - he’d really rather not die by Tobirama’s hand, not when he was the one who killed Izuna too.

 

“You might as well,” he tells his old friend. “Make it quick. I’ll be satisfied, if _you_ do it,” He means it. He can’t say what Hashirama means to him. He should be nothing but his enemy, but he’s more than that. Childhood bonds, or the unique way their mind sometimes seems to connect when locked in desperate fights? Whatever is the reason, he feels that with Izuna gone, he’s the last person who understands him at all. That maybe, even if he’d rather not admit this to himself, even when his little brother was still alive, he was closer to Hashirama than to him. He always hated himself for it, but now - it doesn’t matter anymore. If the Senju kills him, he’ll be satisfied, just as he said.

 

So he finds it very bothersome to argue with him on this. He tries to reason, talks about peace still.

 

“Can’t we settle it, like we used to? Just the two of us…”

 

He’s astonishingly naive. How could he keep his spirit untouched when Madara is jaded beyond redemption? His glace fells on Tobirama, standing on the side, silent at the moment, but obviously trembling to stop his brother’s desperate attempts to finish the war without spilling more blood.

 

Hashirama still has people to protect. A clan that listens to him, and respects him. A younger brother to protect. Peace is not meaningless to him, as he’s not alone.

 

“You know that’s impossible. I’m not the same as you anymore. I don’t have any siblings left and I - can’t trust you.” All he has left from Izuna are his eyes and his will. And he wanted to conquer over the Senju. He wanted to protect Madara from them, warning him not to trust them.

 

“How can we make you trust us?”

 

He looks at Tobirama again, hatred and vengeance squeezing his heart in an iron grip. They are not leaving space for any other emotions, so he finds the words easy to say.

 

“Kill your brother. Then we will be even. Then I will trust your clan.”

 

Time seems to slow, the moment dragging on for an eternity. He sees how Hashirama’s eyes widen, how, behind his back Izuna’s murderer has the same expression. For once it’s obvious they are brothers. Madara never before thought them looking similar.

 

He also sees how Hashirama half turns, how Tobirama raises the katana in his hand just slightly, as if wanting to protect himself. He wonders if his friend is really going to do it. If he does it, what more proof Madara will need that he’s serious about what he says? Wouldn’t it be the most perfect revenge for Izuna?

 

And at the same time - wouldn’t it be the most horrible thing? Didn’t they swear so long ago that they are going to protect their younger siblings? Madara failed - if he makes Hashirama break his own oath in this violent, terrible way, will it destroy him? If he does it, they will be alike once again and the Uchiha is not sure he could bear that.

 

Then the spell of the moment is broken. Hashirama turns back towards him.

 

“That man is crazy,” Tobirama growls. His usually deep voice is somewhat high pitched, but he was thinking his brother was going to murder him just a second ago, so it’s understandable. “What do you plan to do? Are you going to kill me? How absurd…”

 

“Madara,” Hashirama is looking at him intently, ignoring the younger man. “Ask me anything but this. You know I can’t do it.”

 

“Then you have to kill me.”

 

“I’ll trade my own life. I’m happy to die in his stead. That has to be proof enough that we’re serious about making peace with the Uchiha.”

 

“Why would I want that, Hashirama? No one but you is talking about peace. If you die, the war won’t end. If you prove how important it is for you - worth the life of your last remaining brother - I will believe you.”

 

The pain is so evident on his friend’s face that he almost regrets his cruel ultimatum. But why shouldn’t he suffer as Madara suffers? Still, when he sees a drop of tear roll down on that familiar face, clearing a path through the dirt of a long fight, it’s hard not to cast his eyes away.

 

“Please,” he begs him. “Accept my life instead.”

 

“Hashirama,” he keeps his voice quiet, trying to keep it between them. “I can’t be satisfied with anything else. But it’s all right. It will be alright if I die now, if I’ll die by your hand.”

 

“Madara…”

 

He doesn’t say _I love you,_ but it’s better that way. That word is so freely used by everyone, for emotions that can’t compare to what they feel for each other. He doesn’t need him to say it. He can see it in his eyes, he can sense it the way he touches his face for the barest of moments with the tip of his fingers. He sees how Hashirama’s hand trembles as he raises his blade.

 

“I’ll follow you to death,” he whispers, and Madara knows he’ll keep this promise.

 

“That’s the most fitting ending we could ever wish for our story.”

 

There’s no pain when the sword tears his chest open and runs through his heart.

 

*/*/*

 

 

“Hashirama…”

 

He whispers the name, or rather, it echoes within him.

 

Dying there on the battlefield, together - it doesn’t sound bad at all. He feels that’s what needed to happen for the circle to be complete and wonders why he is still here. Is there anything more he needs to see? He tries to look for that future continuing without them - was Konoha, under a different name, ever founded? Did Tobirama carry on his brother’s will, or did the massacre continue? But he’s not able to see a thing. Apparently he can only play with his own fate.

 

For the first time he wonders if Hashirama is someplace similar. With the Edo Tensei finished, is he now trapped in his private, bright hell too? Are they all fated to be alone even in death or is it just Madara suffering like this?

 

What more does he need to do? He went back to all those turning points. Where else should try?

 

There’s really just one thing left. He kept away from it in fear that he can only make it worse. Back to their childhood, those days at the riverbank. That short time when he was happy, content with his life. Won’t he ruin it, if he tries to touch that? Won’t he taint it, with his spirit that became so dark and twisted?

 

He’ll never see if he doesn’t try.

 

*/*/*

 

“We both reached the other side.”

 

“That stone is good for skipping. Keep it till the next time we meet.”

 

Hashirama doesn’t reply, just smiles at him as he sinks the pebble into his pocket. Madara does the same. On his way home, he’s conscious of its weight. He’s glad for it - he feels so ridiculously light-hearted he could just be airborne, so he needs it to keep him on the ground.

 

He doesn’t understand how Hashirama can do it; make him believe in such dreams. But when he talks about them, they seem so easy, within their reach. Talking about _their_ settlement, where they can watch over their brothers. Where children won’t have to kill each other.

 

Wouldn’t it be wonderful? The two of them can make this dream come true.

 

Reality comes crashing in soon enough.

 

Next time they face each other he knows Hashirama to be a Senju. He is also about to commit a treachery against his clan with warning him, but he just can’t stand the thought of letting him be hurt, even if he’s supposed to his mortal enemy.

 

_Run away!_

 

Hashirama understands the message on the stone right away. No wonder. Madara stares at the one in his hand: _It’s a trap, leave!_

 

But running away is not an option after all.

 

“Stop it” their yells echo in union when their fathers and little brothers clash, but nobody is listening to them, the boys too busy to hear anything over the clatter of weapons, the adults too busy trying to land the first blow.

 

Killing children.

 

Funny how they are supposed to be opponents, but they still act so similarly. Throwing the stones to deter the blades, jumping in front of their brothers to protect them. Their eyes met and Madara steels himself for not thinking of Hashirama as a friend ever again.

 

“It seems we won’t be able to reach our naive pipedream, after all…”

 

He just wishes the Senju boy wouldn’t look so desperate. He has to understand it’s over as well. No more pretending that they have the power to make this world right. That dream went up in a smoke, not even leaving ashes behind.

 

“Madara… you…”

 

“It didn’t last long, but I had fun while it lasted - Hashirama.”

 

He reasons his father out from attacking because it would be just too much. He can barely keep a stoic face as it is. It’s for Izuna’s sake. He has to be strong for Izuna’s sake. He wasn’t good enough to save his other brothers, so at least now, he can’t fail.

 

“Madara, you’re not really giving up, are you? You were finally the same…”

 

_I wish it was different, Hashirama. I wish you were anything but a Senju. My brothers were killed by your kin… That’s why there’s no way we can be friends anymore._

 

Their eyes met, and Madara finds he just can’t say the words. Can’t cut their bond like this. Even if Hashirama is a Senju… he still understands him, knows what he thinks.

 

 _It’s not possible to see what a person really feels and thinks deep inside,_ Madara told him once, at the beginning of their friendship. Now he admits he wasn’t right, because he can read Hashirama like an open book, just by looking him in the eye. No, it’s more than that. He can sense his thoughts just as clearly as they were spoken out loud.

 

_You can’t just let it go. Madara, you and I - we can do it. It is our dream - please let’s fight for it together. With you on my side, we can do it._

 

_Hashirama, don’t you see it was just a dream? We never stood a chance._

 

_If we don’t give up, that dream will become reality._

 

_Do you really believe that?_

 

_I know that. I’m more sure of it than I was of anything in my life. Please give it a chance. Give me a chance._

 

_All right._

 

The signs of tension around the Senju boy’s eyes easies. Desperation turns to determination. Madara is afraid he’ll be so stupid to spill their secret agreement, but he just gives him an almost unnoticeable nod.

 

“Next time we will meet on the battlefield, _Senju_ Hashirama. For I am _Uchiha_ Madara.”

 

His Sharingan comes to life. Is it thanks to the fear of losing his friend or his brother? Or is it the relief that he won’t, all these emotions, he doesn’t even have a name for, swirling in him? It’s so natural, as if he’d always knew how to do it. He hears Izuna’s and their father’s joy over it, but his attention is fixed on his friend. Sees when he mouths, _Yes, I’ve known that._

 

Idiot. Did he really know and said nothing? Was it not bothering him the slightest? He needs to ask him next time they met.

 

He clings to that thought in the following year. It gives him strength not to give up on their dream. He needs to believe they’ll be able to sit down and talk again - it’s easier to picture than forming their settlement where they - Uchiha and Senju - can live in peace, coming true.

 

They meet only in fight, and they are being watched. They can’t talk more than murmured half-sentences obscured by clash of blades. Then, when Madara feels the reality of them ever meeting as friends again became see-through thin, when battling him becomes unbearably real, Hashirama whispers to him over the dying moans of their people.

 

“We need to meet again, Madara. At the usual place, the day after tomorrow.”

 

“I’ll be there,” he replies without thinking. Suddenly the weight lifts from his shoulders.

 

Two days pass slower than they have any right to, but finally he’s there at the riverbank. Hashirama makes him wait, but when he arrives, a bit flushed and out of breath he can’t even be angry with him.

 

“Sorry,” the Senju says “I had to make sure I wasn’t being followed,” he grins at him, his old optimistic grin, and Madara can’t help but smile back. Hashirama crosses the river to stand next to him. He has grown - he’s actually taller than Madara now, his hair is a bit longer that how it used to be, too. But he’s in his usual loose, comfortable clothes and lame as they undoubtedly are, they suit him so much better than the armour he always wears for battle. He looks younger like this, just an ordinary boy. It’s as if nothing has changed.

 

“Hey,” he says, standing awkwardly before him. “I missed you.”

 

“Yeah, me too,” Madara shrugs, glancing sideways, as it would be too embarrassing to look him in the eye. He feels so happy he could cry. “I want you to explain what you said last time. About knowing that I was an Uchiha.”

 

“Hmm, that?” Hashirama scratches his neck. “It was something you said about your eyes. And I also suspected you had to be from a relevant, powerful clan. It wasn’t that difficult to conclude.”

 

“Why haven’t you said anything? Didn’t it bother you?”

 

“I… what is important that you are Madara, if you get it? Not that you’re _Uchiha_ Madara. And anyhow - that’s just one more reason why we should work hard to achieve our dream. If we can make our clans come to peace with other, we’ll surely have other followers as well.”

 

“So you still think we can make it come true?”

 

“I’m more sure of it than I ever was.”

 

*/*/*

 

Madara laughs, joy filling his whole being. The light shines on him, through him in such a pleasant way, warming him. He hasn’t even noticed before how cold he was inside. He can’t even comprehend why this warm brightness was ever painful.

 

So easy. It’s so easy, it’s shameful he hasn’t realized it sooner.

 

Because he’s sure now that to turn his fate right all he ever had to do was to stick to his and Hashirama’s dream. He’s not afraid to see where the future of his self, who realized that, will lead.

 

*/*/*

 

They shake hands. Hashirama’s palm is warm and comforting. He looks solemn and powerful - or rather he’d look them if not for the terribly unfitting formal garbs he wears. It’s horrible, how Madara has the urge to laugh and tease him, when he has to put on his most serious face. It took them long years, surviving though the seemingly unstoppable wars to get here, so he controls his features. They grew up and became the leaders of their clans, so they can now stand like this, facing each other, marking the start of a new era with something as simple as clasping hands. Just thinking about it makes his cheerfulness go away.

 

Six painful years, full or blood and death. If not for those rare occasions where they could both slip away from their duties and the watchful eyes of their clan to meet at the riverbank as old friends, he would have given up on this impossible dream long ago. If Hashirama hasn’t been always confident they can make it come true, didn’t act as if it wasn’t a question to continue fighting for it… But he never appeared to waver, so Madara made sure to never show his weaknesses and his doubts either. He’s not about to let this Senju surpass him in anything.

 

He feels Izuna’s eyes in his back. He wasn’t enthusiastic about this pact of peace to say the least. Madara hardly ever argued with his little brother before, but when he signed Hashirama’s ceasefire agreement, the teen got very angry with him, accusing him of dishonouring their ancestors’ wills, of belittling all the Uchiha’s - including their brothers’ - sacrifice who died fighting the Senju.

 

Painful as his displeasure is to Madara, he remained firm on his decision. The village will be made for the safety of children - and the safety or their younger brothers after all. He knows from his friend that Tobirama has similar doubts too. They will learn to live with it and trust the other clan. They have to.

 

Luckily he has the support of the majority of their people. Most are aware how the Senju are superior in power. They think that it’s only thanks to Madara that they still equal - Madara, who’s just as strong as Hashirama.

 

It’s a secret between them that this is not true. Over the years, Hashirama has always been careful not to show his true might. It always pissed Madara off, but now it comes handy. They can stand here as equals now. And anyhow - with their dream becoming reality, he’ll have plenty of time to surpass him. Just to show him he’s the better.

 

Hashirama grins at him broadly and he allows himself to return the gesture with his own thin lipped smile. Their people around them cheer openly.

 

*/*/*

 

“Madara,” Hashirama gasps against his lips. They have kissed before, huddling close at their secret hideaway near the river. The Uchiha was more that surprised when his friend leaned in close to press his lips against his for the first time, shoved him away, and shouted at him for his idiotic behaviour. The other boy just blinked at him as if uncomprehending what his problem was. Next time they met - long months passed between the two occasions - it was Madara who kissed him, for he kept thinking about it and thought that the best way to get rid of his disturbing desires. It didn’t work.

 

Still, their boyish fumblings, kisses and caresses were never quite like this. Never been filled with this much passion and longing. Madara is twenty and thus old enough to understand exactly why what they are doing is wrong. But he can’t possibly stop it.

 

How can something so perfect and desirable be wrong anyhow? Maybe they are right to want each other and everyone else, who’d frown on them, is wrong. It wouldn’t be the first time. Look at their dream becoming reality.

 

In haste, they get each other out of their clothes. Hashirama’s body is different than his, with his muscles well defined on his strong arms, his wide chest and flat stomach. His skin is darker, having a healthy tan even where the sun can’t possibly touch it regularly. Madara never considered finding other men beautiful - truth to be told, he never cared about women’s appearance either - but he gets aroused by the looks of his friend.

 

If his look excites him, he doesn’t know what to call what his touches awaken in him. Madara is used to the thrill of fight - but this is new to him. He wonders if Hashirama is more experienced than him, and if he is, who did he lay with before.

 

He doesn’t have the time for get jealous over the thought however. He can’t even say how, but they end up on his tatami, he on his back, Hashirama above him on his hand and knees. The position is somewhat stifling, he feels confined as if the other man is holding him back from moving freely, so he pushes on his shoulder until they are lying side by side.

 

He runs his fingers down on his friend's arm, his hips, then, after a moment of hesitation, wraps them around his cock. Encouraged by the other’s loud groan, he moves his hand experimentally.  He is somewhat thicker than him, his member rigid, moist and silky under his touch. It’s strange, doing this to someone else, but mostly it’s arousing, seeing how much the other man enjoys his touch.

 

Hashirama grabs his shoulder, closes his eyes and apparently gives himself over to pleasure. Madara is so excited himself, he feels he could come just from watching him. When his lover reaches out to reciprocate his touch, he has to bit his lip and think of unexciting thoughts to last a bit longer - recalling those terrible sessions he spent with the elders of the clan telling him all the duties he has as a leader does it.

 

He is very proud when he can make Hashirama come before him, how he can feel his whole body tremble with orgasm against his. He wraps his sticky palm around the other’s slackening grip, thrusts his hips against their hands and shoots his seed too.

 

For long moments they don’t talk, only their loud breathing breaking the silence of the room.

 

He opens his eyes to a crack - he doesn’t even remember closing them - and finds Hashirama watching him from embarrassingly closely. He catches Madara looking, smiles and kisses him.

 

“Hey,” he says softly when their lips part. “I’m sorry ‘bout that… Planned something more… ehh, fancy, but…”

 

“Fancy?”

 

“Yeah… more than just coming straight away when you start to bring me off, but - we have all the time to do _everything,_ don’t we?”

 

He looks flushed and hopeful. Madara is reminded so strongly how he was years ago, trying to impress him with a new jutsu and being depressed when he couldn’t, that he can’t help but laugh and agree.

 

*/*/*

 

“The twin shadows who will watch over Land of Fire and everyone living here! The leaders of the first shinobi village - Senju Hashirama and Uchiha Madara!”

 

With all the loud introduction - as if their people doesn’t know who they are - and the cheering of the crowd, Madara feels like he’s some freak on show at a third-rate fair. He peers at Hashirama from the corners of his eyes. The taller man looks completely happy and at ease. He’s much more fit for this than Madara, but he insisted that both of them partake in the ceremony.

 

“We are the Hokage, they’ve put all their trust in us. We can do so little as stand the buzz for a bit. Please, Madara.”

 

He of course made him agree in the end. He’s a sneaky Senju after all, and lately learned all too well how to convince Madara of pretty much anything. He even made him wear the stupid hat he designed, though the Uchiha drew the line there and resisted any mentions of long, white overcloaks. He got used to them on Hashirama, but he’s not about to ridicule himself in them as well.

 

He spots Izuna in the crowd below, amongst a group of Uchiha. When their eyes met, his brother smiles at him and rises his hand is a small wave and that makes this whole ordeal worth it.

 

His approval means a lot and Madara was afraid that their connection got damned with forming the village. His brother is very stubborn and decides easily on what’s right and wrong. Making him see how this is for the benefit of their clan was a painstaking task.

 

But since it’s been decided that Hashirama and he will co-rule the village, Izuna started to accept this cooperation more. Maybe it also has to do something with that girl from the other clan with whom he often disappears for long periods of time. It would be very hypocritical of Madara to ask anything about her, with the way he got so totally wrapped up in their own secret little relationship with Hashirama.

 

Finally it’s over and they are free to escape the crowd. Izuna comes to congratulate him, just as Tobirama comes up to his brother. The two younger men exchange murderous glares, but it seems more out of habit by this time than due to real killing intent. Madara catches his lover smiling at them softly, and he has to hide his mouth behind his hand, so Izuna won’t notice him doing the same.

 

*/*/*

 

This life… _his_ life… Was this his life? It had to be, he remembers making all his choices very clearly. It fills him with satisfaction.

 

Very vaguely he remembers a different fate, one filled with blood, death and treachery, but it doesn’t bother him more than a mostly forgotten, old nightmare. It doesn’t really have anything to do with him.

 

He understands he’s dead, but it doesn’t sadden him. Apparently he has nothing else to do than to remember what he’d done while alive.

 

Wrapped in his comfortable, warm cocoon of light he finds that task really pleasant.

 

 

*/*/*

 

A presence under his window wakes him from his sleep. Old habits die hard - he’s on his feet, weapon in hand before he fully becomes aware of his surroundings and realize it’s Hashirama.

 

“Sorry, it’s just me,” the Senju whispers quite unnecessarily.

 

“What the hell are you doing out there?! Come in quickly, before someone sees you.” They stare at each other awkwardly in the moonlit room before Madara realizes he should put his blade away. “So, what is this about?”

 

“I… I guess I’m hiding from Tobirama.”

 

“What?” he snorts, because he can just picture the white haired man strolling the streets, looking for his brother like a hound trying to find its prey. “What for?”

 

“He… we had a conversation. About marriage. And it didn’t go well. Or rather, it went well, just Tobirama didn’t really like my decision on the matter.”

 

“Marriage,” Madara repeats. Maybe he’s still sleepy, but his friend usually makes more sense than this.

 

“Yes. About me marrying. He even had a candidate ready! I swear he acts as if he’s my father sometimes.”

 

“Oh. You don’t like her?” there’s a strange feeling in his stomach, a  dull ache as if he’d eaten something that doesn’t agree with him. He’d rather not have this conversation right now, probably not ever.

 

“Of course not! I told Tobirama I’m not going to get married and the reason behind it.”

 

“Which is…?”

 

“You, of course,” he grins at him, apparently satisfied with himself. “Do you mind if I stay here for the night?”

 

He’s already taking off his clothes, while Madara looks at him uncertainly, wondering if maybe he’s still dreaming.

  
“You’re joking, right?”

 

“Why would I?”

 

“Because… because this is not something you can tell to people! Not even to your brother! Hell, _especially_ not to your brother! Are you completely out of your mind?”

 

“Probably. You make me lose my mind,” he’s smiling, as if it was completely all right. As if leaders of clans - leaders of the first shinobi village - could go and announce things like that.

 

“What are we going to do, if people learn it? We should have thought about it sooner! This was a crazy idea to begin with, but.. _no_ , Hashirama…” ignoring his weak protest, the taller man embraces and kisses him. He’s already half-naked, which shakes Madara’s resistance - which is not very strong to begin with - even further.

 

“Well, if they learn about it - I don’t care,” he whispers when their lips part. “I want to be with you - and who could tell us no?”

 

“You’re a fool…” and he’s a fool as well, as he’s just unable to push him away. “You think your biggest problem is how to hide away here from your brother, but wait until Izuna hears about it…”

 

“I’ll take the risk.”

 

“You obviously don’t know him at all if you say that so casually.”

 

*/*/*

 

“Looking for stability, one god was divided into yin and yang. The actions of the two opposing forces move the world.”

 

Izuna runs his fingers over the engraving, not looking up to him.

 

“What do you want to say with that, brother?”

 

“You know that I’ve been studying this for years now. And I’m fairly sure it is about Uchiha and Senju. How our cooperation can save the world - or how we can push it into destruction.”

 

“Is it how you justify what you do with that man, brother?”

 

“Izuna…No, I don’t need to justify my actions,” there’s no point in telling him that he’s drawn to Hashirama so strongly, he can’t possibly resist. That he’s not full, if he’s not with him. Whether it has to do anything with the text on the stone monument, whether they are fated to be this way, or it’s just the two them, bound by their friendship, their common dream and years of fighting, he doesn’t know and doesn’t care.

 

The younger man glances at him finally. Madara fears disappointment in his eyes, but he seems only mildly curious. That’s an improvement - he hardly spoke a word to him for weeks.

 

“Then why are we here?”

 

“Because this is our legacy. As the leader of the clan I felt it was my obligation to try to decipher this text. It talks about who we are, after all. I want you to know what I know. To continue after me if anything were to happen to me. You’re the closest to me, after all.”

 

“I’m no longer that, am I? You have _Hashirama._ ”

 

“Izuna,” he steps up to the younger Uchiha. “Nothing can change the fact that you’re my little brother. Nobody can take your place. Please, it’s very important that you accept this… It’s part of who I am, just as being your brother is part of it too,” he puts his hand on his the other’s shoulder, and when he doesn’t resist, pulls him into a hug.

 

“It’s so weird, you know? We and the Senju… and especially you and _that_ Senju…I still can’t wrap my mind around how we ended up like this.”

 

“Life brings us the most unexpected situations. If we just took one step differently somewhere in the past, who could tell where we’d be today?”

 

*/*/*

 

 

“We will distribute you the Bijuu equally, to keep the balance between the villages. But they have a price you have to pay.”

 

Madara _feels_ Hashirama’s disapproving frown, but he ignores it for once. He convinced him and their counsellors - their brothers - to do this, but all three of them were very firm that they can’t just cast them away freely.

 

Hashirama’s naive idealism can easily get on anyone’s nerve. If it wasn’t so deeply part of who he is, Madara couldn’t stand it. He doesn’t like to admit, even to himself, how much he actually loves it.

 

That doesn’t mean he should just let him always act on it though.

 

The other countries are well aware how superior Konoha’s power is compared to theirs. It is bound to make them conspire against them sooner or later - and it’s a risky game to smooth their fears with handling them some of their secret weapons on a plate.

 

Over the years he found this was the best way they can work together. Hashirama will come up with his idealist plans, and Madara will make them work in reality. He can trust Izuna and Tobirama to point out all the possible flaws he might have missed.

 

He smirks and that halts the Kazekage in his rant. He has a well-founded reputation to be the more temperamental leader of Konoha, the one they should not trifle with. Good. He won’t let these fools ridicule Hashirama for all his efforts. They don’t know how lucky they all are to have him as one of the Hokage. They don’t see that if not for him, the various clans would still fight each other, with no hope for even temporary peace. They think him weak if he acts humble, because they are too self-centred to see his greatness.

 

If Madara would rule alone, he’d eliminate them for their cheek. That would ensure peace as well, after all.

 

 

*/*/*

 

 

“Hey, look. You have a few silver threads here.”

 

“Tear them out.”

 

“No! I like them,” Hashirama places a gentle kiss on his scalp.

 

“What do you like about grey hair?”

 

“They show that we’re together for so long. That we survived all hardships and now growing old together.”

 

“You’re an idiot.”

 

“So you keep telling me.”

 

They are silent - it’s too enjoyable to lay like this, in his lover’s arms, to speak what is on his mind. He doesn’t want to ruin the mood, but of course Hashirama knows him too well, and realizes something’s going on.

 

“Tell me what’s wrong?” he murmurs, and Madara sighs.

 

“I wonder if peace is coming to its end. The other villages - we got more and more rumours of them wanting to come against us. And it’s strange - fight used to be all I knew. But I don’t want war to break out again.”

 

“It seems no matter what the era, there’s always a conflict,” Hashirama’s voice is grave. Because he might be naive, but he’s not actually a fool. “I don’t wish to fight either, but if it comes to it - we will protect our village, our people.”

 

“Two old men like us.”

 

“It’s only you having grey hair…”

 

Madara turns his head and bites him to avenge that comment.

 

*/*/*

 

“I was sure I will find you here. We should have made a bet.”

 

“A bet?” he tips his head to the side, but doesn’t turn to face Tobirama. He can’t quite look at him right now.

 

“Izuna went to look for you by the river, but I guessed you might be haunting his grave again.”

 

“What do you want?”

 

“The Daimyo arrived, we’re waiting for you to start the meeting.”

 

“You and Izuna can do it without me.”

 

“Madara,” the Senju sighs. “You’re still Hokage. With my brother gone, you are _the_ Hokage.”

 

“As I said - you and Izuna are completely capable to rule this village without me.”

 

“If you want to step back, that’s fine,” he’s close to him, trying to catch his eyes, but Madara looks steadily ahead, at the cold marble marking the final resting place of Hashirama’s remains. The white haired man reaches out as if he wants to make him turn towards him, but then changes his mind. It might be the empty sleeve what puts him off from touching him - Madara’s left arm is missing below his shoulder. That last attack cost him a lot, but an amputated limb is nothing compared to losing his lover. Tobirama clears his throat and finally he takes pity on him and faces him. “As I was saying, I can understand if you want to step back, but do come to this meeting. We need to show we’re still strong, even without him.”

 

“Just give me a few more minutes, will you? And I’ll be coming.”

 

He watches the other man go, before turning back to the grave to continue the interrupted, one sided conversation he was having.

 

“Our brothers are driving me mad. Slave drivers, the both of them. It was very mean of you to leave me alone with them,” he sighs and touches the unyielding, cold stone. “But to be fair, they are doing their best. Just as we were. And we succeeded. We protected our village, our people in the end, no matter how many of them were coming against us. We didn’t fail our dream. Even if I wish the price wasn’t so high to pay - I’m glad for that.”

 

And he is. He feels a bit sad, and rather lonely, but he’s not coping as badly as Izuna and Tobirama fears he does. He’s preparing to go after Hashirama soon, that’s true, but it’s not as if he’s going to cut his stomach open for it. His wounds from the last battle and the emptiness his lover’s death left in his heart should be enough to ensure it will happen.

 

He won’t mind to go. He lived a full life and achieved more than most men could hope for. So he’ll make an effort for those remaining behind and play his role a bit longer, than will gladly follow Hashirama to the other side.

 

 

*/*/*

 

There’s not much more to see.

 

His life laid out bare before him. He smiles, bathes in the warm light. It seems he has nothing to regret, nothing he’d need to do differently. In that case, it’s time for him to move on from here.

 

Hashirama is surely waiting for him.

 

If they missed anything in life, they can make up for it in death. Nothing is impossible now that they have both crossed to the other side.

 

 

*/*/*

**FIN**

  
*/*/*  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
